[Note: Read up to Chapter - 120 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]
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After hearing Professor McGonagall's words, Aris blinked in surprise, his face a picture of confusion.
"My situation?"
"Indeed," McGonagall replied sternly. "Care to explain what exactly you've been up to lately?"
"And why you haven't shown up to a single special tutoring session in so long?"
"Er..." Aris hesitated for a moment, but then a smile crept across his face.
"Well, now that you mention it, I do have a couple of questions I've been meaning to ask the two of you."
He turned to Flitwick first, his tone curious.
"Professor Flitwick, I've been pondering something for a while now..."
"What, exactly, is the essence of a spell?"
Flitwick looked momentarily thrown.
"The essence...? Well, a spell is the structured method of casting magic—it's what guides the magic and ensures the effect happens properly."
"But with non-verbal spells, you don't actually say the incantation aloud, right?"
"Even with silent casting, you must still recite the spell in your mind!" Flitwick insisted.
"But if incantations are essential, then how come accidental magic happens when a young wizard's power flares up—without any spell being said, out loud or otherwise?"
"That..." Flitwick paused, visibly stumped, and frowned as he fell into deep thought.
>V<
Congratulations, host. You've successfully stumped a professor. 300 academic points awarded.
>V<
Aris heard the system's voice ring cheerfully in his mind and couldn't help but grin.
He didn't press Flitwick further. Instead, he turned to Professor McGonagall.
"I've got another question, Professor. This one's for you."
For some reason, McGonagall felt a sudden pang of unease.
A memory flashed through her mind—her very first day teaching Aris. He had worn that exact same innocent expression then… just before blindsiding her with some absurdly complicated question.
"What is it this time?" she asked, wary.
By this point, Professor McGonagall could only force a smile.
Aris furrowed his brow, looking genuinely troubled.
"I've been reading some old texts lately, ones that go on about ancient Transfiguration theories. Apparently, back in the days when ancient magic was still commonplace, there were powerful wizards who could shift into all sorts of animals. Merlin, for instance—he was supposedly a master shapeshifter, able to take on all manner of forms..."
He paused, then continued with a frown.
"But if that's true, then what happened to that branch of magic? Why is it that modern Animagi can only transform into one specific, non-magical creature? Doesn't really add up with what those old records say, does it?"
His distress looked entirely genuine, like the whole subject had been giving him a proper headache.
Professor McGonagall's expression tightened slightly. It was clear Aris had once again struck a nerve—a part of her knowledge that wasn't as firm as she liked.
In the end, she could only offer:
"Well, those are just old legends, aren't they? The way ancient Transfiguration is described in those books isn't always reliable. After all, the stories about Merlin—well, some of them read more like bedtime tales than actual history."
>V<
Congratulations, host. You've successfully made a professor dodge your question. 300 academic points awarded.
>V<
Well, that worked. Aris was quite pleased with himself. Another three hundred points in the bag.
Still, it was probably best not to keep pushing. He didn't want to truly put Professor McGonagall on the spot.
Just as the mood started to settle, he smoothly changed the subject.
"Then what about the nature of magic itself, Professor?" he asked innocently.
"Have you perhaps come to any conclusions about that?"
His expression was pure and earnest, full of a thirst for knowledge—completely unaware (or so it seemed) that he'd just thrown her a question even tougher than the last.
"Mr Shafiq..." McGonagall's lips thinned, her patience clearly wearing.
"I may... need to look into that further before I can give you a proper answer."
It was clear that Professor McGonagall was doing her utmost to keep her temper in check.
Merlin only knew what she'd put herself through in the library, digging through endless volumes trying to answer that blasted question. She'd fallen so behind on her teaching duties that even Dumbledore had had a quiet word with her—more than once, in fact.
But despite all her effort, she still hadn't found a single solid clue about the true nature of magic.
It wasn't the sort of question anyone in the modern wizarding world could answer—not without dedicating their entire life to it. And even then, there was no guarantee of results.
It just wasn't that simple.
Yet Aris, as usual, didn't seem to know when to leave well enough alone.
Every now and then, he'd casually bring it up again—as if it were an idle curiosity—but in her eyes, it was nothing short of infuriatingly rude.
She could feel her patience fraying by the second.
"Perhaps," she said coolly, her voice clipped and expression frosty, "we should end this conversation here."
>V<
Congratulations, host. You've successfully stumped and angered a professor. 600 points awarded.
>V<
Aris blinked in surprise as the system's voice chimed in once more.
Six hundred? That was double the last reward!
Why?
Stumped and angered?
As he checked the prompt history, a theory formed in his mind.
Maybe… the bigger the reaction, the bigger the reward?
Still, now wasn't the time to be thinking about points. He could tell he'd pushed things as far as he could for now.
"Understood, Professor!" he said quickly, wearing his most harmless smile.
He gave Cho and Hermione a little wink.
"Come on, let's be off. Goodbye, Professor!"
Without another word, the three of them quickly exited the office, leaving the two professors behind in varying states of confusion and frustration.
It all happened in a flash—Aris hadn't even managed to close the office door properly before an exasperated growl echoed from within.
"Why does that boy have so many blasted odd questions!?" came Professor McGonagall's voice, filled with frustration.
Hot on its heels followed Professor Flitwick's voice, equally irritated.
"That little rascal definitely did it on purpose!"
"Merlin's mouldy socks! A first-year… actually had the nerve to debate the nature of magic with me!"
"I hadn't even considered that before—but now I feel like I ought to!"
Hearing all that from inside, Aris gently eased the door shut.
The three young wizards exchanged looks, then without a word, spun round and quickly made their way down the corridor, boots tapping a little faster than usual.
Moments later, once they'd vanished from sight, two shadowy figures emerged from around the corner of another hallway.
"George, did you catch all of that?"
"Every single word! What a cracking little exchange."
"I've never seen Professor McGonagall that wound up…"
"She was absolutely fuming!"
"And the Extendable Ears worked a treat. Might be time to put them into full production—reckon loads of students would love 'em."
"Too right. But I must say… Aris is something else."
"If we could master his knack for winding up professors, we'd never be caught tongue-tied in detention again!"
"Maybe we should ask him for a few tips, eh?"
The Weasley twins shared a conspiratorial grin, clearly pleased with themselves.
"If word gets out about what just went down in that office, it'll shake the whole school!"
"No doubt. I mean… Professor McGonagall's practically royalty around here—second only to Dumbledore!"
"So… should we…?"
"Oh absolutely. It's far too juicy to keep quiet."
"Hehehe~"
"Hehehe~"
And with that, the mischievous pair vanished down the corridor, taking with them the freshest bit of gossip Hogwarts had seen in weeks.
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Inside the office.
Once Professor McGonagall had finally calmed down, she stormed toward the door.
"Minerva, where are you off to? This is your office..." Flitwick asked, looking rather puzzled.
"Where else?" McGonagall snapped, her lips drawn into a tight line. "The library!"
"Er..." Professor Flitwick hesitated, deep in thought.
"I suggest you come with me," McGonagall said sharply, "because the next time that cheeky little sod hits you with a question like that—especially in front of a bunch of students—you'll regret not being better prepared. And don't expect it to be as easy to brush off as it was today!"
With that, she marched out, heels clicking briskly down the corridor.
Professor Flitwick stood there, sighing in frustration. Then, with a surprising burst of energy for someone his size, he hopped and gave the wall a swift kick.
"Bloody nuisance..." he muttered, before trotting after McGonagall in the direction of the library.
No way was he going to get caught off-guard by Aris again. Being stumped in front of a class was already bad enough—but being shown up by a first-year? That was a right embarrassment for a Ravenclaw professor!
Inwardly, Flitwick made a mental note. Aris Shafiq: one to watch—and maybe, if the chance came up, one to give a firm reminder of who's in charge.
The truth was, neither he nor McGonagall minded answering students' questions—on the contrary, they welcomed it. But Aris… Aris always seemed to pick questions that were deliberately tricky, the sort you could only answer after burying your nose in dusty tomes for weeks.
It wasn't just frustrating—it was infuriating.
…
The next morning — Halloween.
Aris was, as usual, fully immersed in the Room of Requirement, poring over the intricate patterns of the magic circles, trying to decipher their secrets.
When he woke up that morning, he'd had the oddest feeling he was forgetting something. But once he'd finished freshening up and stepped into the lab, all thoughts unrelated to elemental magic were shoved clean out of his mind.
After all, there were far more important mysteries to solve than silly seasonal distractions.
Soon enough, Hermione and Cho arrived at the laboratory.
"Aris, there's a Halloween feast in the Great Hall tonight. Will you be going?" Hermione asked, a hopeful glint in her eyes.
Aris didn't even glance up from his work. He replied offhandedly, "We'll see."
Truth be told, his mind was completely occupied with the latest revision of the Soul Gathering Magic Array. He needed to reassess the interplay of elemental affinities—how they reinforced or cancelled each other out—and make precise adjustments to the array's structure.
If not, channelling too much elemental energy would lead to a catastrophic riot of clashing forces.
So, Hermione's question barely registered.
"Oh..." she murmured, a little deflated. Still, she went on, "We've got to head to the Great Hall soon anyway. Professor Flitwick's taking us there for a practical lesson—decorating the place with magic. It's meant to help us sharpen our casting skills."
"Yeah, we'll probably be off in a bit," Cho added.
"Right, okay," Aris replied, finally glancing up.
In truth, he'd only caught their last few words.
Seeing how little attention Aris paid them, Hermione and Cho exchanged a knowing look and sighed softly. But they weren't annoyed—just used to it by now.
When Aris got deep into his research, especially on runes or elemental theory, he entered a state of pure focus. In those moments, it didn't matter who spoke to him—he simply tuned the world out.
Oddly enough, the girls found it rather admirable. That kind of single-minded dedication? It was something they both knew they couldn't quite pull off themselves.
After a quick greeting, Cho and Hermione headed straight for the long table and each picked up a magic crystal.
Their task remained the same: to channel their magical energy into the crystals, and once filled, guide that magic outward again.
The work was monotonous—tedious, even—but the two young witches didn't mind it one bit. On the contrary, they rather enjoyed it.
To their surprise, they'd discovered that this exercise not only helped them refine their control over magical flow but also gradually increased the total capacity of their magic reserves.
That revelation had been nothing short of thrilling.
"Let's crack on—we've got two hours," Hermione said, glancing at her watch before turning to Cho with a determined smile.
They'd long since stopped thinking of it as a chore. For them, it had become a proper magical workout.
"Right!" Cho nodded.
Then, in perfect synchrony, the two of them reached out and placed their hands over their respective magic crystals.
Meanwhile...
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Defence Against the Dark Arts Office.
With lessons suspended for Halloween, Professor Quirrell had the whole day to himself—ample time to carry out his own plans.
He was currently seated at his desk, carefully and deliberately arranging a small stack of ancient coins.
As he worked, he murmured to himself under his breath.
"Master... all is ready. We can begin tonight."
"The troll in the Forbidden Forest is completely under my control. With just the right nudge, it'll follow me straight to the castle. Then…"
A sinister smile slowly crept across Quirrell's face—one that no student at Hogwarts had ever seen.
"I just hope those brats are lucky... otherwise, one of them might get their bones crushed under that club."
He fell into a twisted sort of daydream, eyes half-lidded, an unmistakable trace of cruelty flickering behind the nervous stammer he wore like a mask.
Suddenly, Quirrell's body gave a slight shudder.
Then, a cold, commanding voice echoed in his mind.
"Don't get carried away. Remember your true task tonight. You must confirm whether the item is hidden in the corridor on the fourth floor."
"This is your only chance. If you mess this up, the professors—and Dumbledore—will be on high alert. And if that happens, finding another opportunity will be near impossible."
"Do you understand, you fool?"
"Y-yes... I understand, Master…" Quirrell whimpered, his bravado crumbling instantly. He stammered as he answered the voice in his head.
"Master... please don't worry. I-I won't let you down... I swear it!"
As he spoke, he began to wind the turban tightly around his head.
Then, from inside his suitcase, he retrieved a heavy black cloak with a deep hood and slipped it over his shoulders.
After ensuring everything was in place, he inhaled sharply.
And then—with slightly shaky steps—he left the office.
His face was pale, his expression oddly blank. He moved as though haunted, as if some terrible weight pressed down on him, forcing each footstep.
Before long, he turned a corner and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.
Judging by the direction he'd taken out of the castle...
...it was clear where he was headed.
His destination—was the Forbidden Forest.
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Drop power Powerstonessssssssss!
[Note: Read up to Chapter - 120 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]